Life Handed Me Lemons 

Life handed me lemons; very bitter lemons with no juice in it. Those tiny ones that are not yet ripe; bloody bitter lemons that are basically waste of fruits and I wondered how do I make lemonades off my own lemons?! Or isn’t that what people say: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade?! How do you squeeze small balls of lemons that are so dry?! Who came up with that stupid notion anyways. I bet it was a stupid housewife who enjoys a cup of lemonade probably tons of shots of vodka in it when her husband is out at “work” and she knows he is just out shagging the maid who goes out to shop at the same time her husband leaves the house. Bloody, lonely woman who has nothing but her glass of very alcoholic lemonade to deal with her midlife crisis telling us what to do when gives us lemons. Does she even know you can’t just make lemonade out of lemons?! You need tons of other ingredients to make a glass of lemonade. Pfft, such ridiculous advise. 

Anyways, life handed me the proverbial lemons and with no juice in it; nothing that can make the proverbial lemonade. I am beginning to say lemons and lemonade too much and it is getting me really angry. Really though, how do you ever qualify life’s hardship with lemons?! I knows lemons are bitter and stuff but even lemonade is not good for everybody; I know this because it gives me the worst bout of heart burn I have ever had and I hate it. So, lemonade is bad, very bad for me and it doesn’t even represent “joy” to me; who wants to spend minutes or even hours clutching their chest in pain?! Is it not just wise to leave the lemons be and just stare at them? Maybe I am just one bitter girl trying to really make sense of all the tough things I have to go through recently and figure out a way out. Maybe I am just frustrated about my situation that I am taking it out on poor lemons. 

You see, life has been really hard; almost too hard to bear. There are times I wonder if I had signed a deal up in heaven to bear all the burdens all my friends and family are supposed to bear because I have never heard my friends and siblings complain about one bad thing. Okay, that’s a lie, they do complain but compared to what I have been through and still going through, I find their complains really trivial and I wish in my mind I could switch lives with them. I mean, if getting heart broken by the finest boy in their class who they hardly talk to asking their friend out is the worst that happens to some humans, count me in, I want a jolly trip in their shoes. I bet it will be easier to deal with than having to struggle to not crash, to stay afloat and live above it. 

Live above it; that’s what my friend I had managed to tell a bit of the story to told me to.  She said “put yourself together and live above all of it. You are stronger and a better woman than you know. I nodded and pretended I understood everything she said to but frankly, I am still trying to figure it out. Live above what exactly?! Live above what was eating deep within me, rendering me a walking ghost?! How do you put yourself together when you don’t even know where the shattered pieces are?! Even if I knew, I would not know where to start from and I am thankful for the blind faith my friend has in my strength and virtue but I am not a good woman or strong woman at all.  If I was, I would not be in this situation. I would able to fight every single time I find myself drowning, I would fight the current and stay afloat but I surrender every time and just sink deeper and deeper. 

No strong woman would want to just sink without struggling, they would fight until they can walk on water or at least till the water doesn’t terrify them. So, nope, I am not a strong woman and I am not better either. Only if you knew the many things I had had to do stay sane but I can’t; you will judge me without even knowing the options I have to choose from. You will condemn me and crucify me without hearing what really happened or how it happened. I know you will judge because that’s what humans do; lay on their beds or sit on their couch and judge people like they live their lives. It’s like some sort of drug, like cocaine that makes people feel superior to the other person. Oh, look at that girl, she is so nasty, thank God I am not like her. Yes, you’re not like her. 

At least, she is a million times better than you who sit on your ass doing nothing but blaming and blaming people. They are my lemons, face yours! It is a lot to deal with already, so I am not going to add being judged or condemned to the equation. So, I will keep quiet and maybe one day, life will be kind enough to turn my lemons to oranges or apples or watermelons. I am not even going to be picky, just give me some damned ripe lemons I can at least squeeze some juice from. 

P.S: I legit think that “if life hands you lemons, make lemonade out of it” quote is one of the most pretentious things I have heard people say to people going through issues. What lemons?! It cheapens a lot of them struggles we face… 

I hope you enjoyed this short story… Please leave a comment to tell me what you think, I will love to hear from you… 


From Whip Girl, with love 

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Events In Nigeria: Goody Bags or Good Values?!

This particular discussion has caused a bit of a ruckus on instagram; so much ruckus that I had to delete the posts because some people feel as a “public figure” and someone who a lot of people respect her opinions, I should censor the things I say or better still, “unlook”.  But I have been so restless because I feel I have the right to air my opinion as an individual who goes through life and has expectations as well. So, I have decided to bring this discussion to my “personal” blog so event organisers can pick one or two lessons and not to ruin the brand; as some people insinuated on IG. Before I start, I will like to say shout out to Alex of http://www.nappyhaired.com; her wig making booth was the highlight of the event for me. I learnt how to crochet and I was really impressed at how she made sure everyone practised what they learnt; it was an eye opener for me.

Yesterday, I attended the Shea Moisture Masterclass and I was very disappointed. Prior to this event, the hype on social media was so much that I felt like I had to be there or would be missing out on the grandest event of the year. The line up of panelists were so much with celebrities and bloggers as special guests which I thought was a good move by the brand; brands are beginning to recognise the importance of bloggers and I was glad they involved some of my favourite bloggers doing amazingly well in their niche. And because of all the things promised on IG, I had such high expectations. I expected to learn about what Shea moisture can do for my hair and skin. Sincerely, it was more about hair as promoted on instagram, so I was expecting to learn how to style my hair, get my curl popping; something to get my fro game to the next level. Boy, was I dissapointed. 

First, I had a bit of an issue with the sitting arrangements; the panelists were hidden by two giant pillars and for someone like me who enjoy looking at whoever is talking to me (except over the phone of course), it was a bit of a challenge. Then, there were the challenge of getting where to sit when there were vacant spaces in front that people where keeping for their friends still on the way and there was no usher to help regulate that. I was lucky to find a seat at the back and it was close to their mini mart set up. With a lot of people shopping, it was distracting to focus on the panelists talking, people were moving up and down and it was just so hard to not be distracted. Well, with the panelists and host conversing like they were the only ones in the hall, the distraction was very welcomed. 

Frankly, that was the least of the issues I had with the event. The most disturbing thing was the goody bag part. We had this access pass (that was given to only select few by the way) that we were told we had to stamp five times to get a goody bag. At first, I was not interested (because I have too many skin products from brands that I have not even opened, so I was not really in the mood to go through the stress) but my friend told me to just get the bag as a compensation for coming (which didn’t sit well with me. No one should ever feel the need to be compesaged when they attend any event because the lessons learnt should be enough “compensation”) and so, about we went trying to get our pass stamped.  

There were over 6 experience stands in the same hall as the panel session and we had to walk round the hall to get the stamps. You had to get one for drinking cocktails, for playing games, for viewing their products (which was just in a fancy garden like box and no one to explain the products to us but stamp our pass), for taking picture, for going to the wig making booths. It was a pretty good innovation to get us all involved in the event but it was poorly executed. There were over 100 people going up and down the hall trying to stamp their pass just so they can get a goody bag and it totally totally defeated the learning process they intended us to have. It was rowdy, people trying to figure out from each other where to get the next stamp which just made me realise brand events are gradually turning to wedding parties where people just come the small chops and souvenirs. 

Stamped pass; you need 5 stamps to get a goody bag

It was depressing to watch people moving up and down to get their pass stamped so they can get a goody bag. I am all for having fun and getting gifts but should these events not be organized in a way that the actual class not be overshadowed by gift items?! I mean what’s the purpose of a brand event if I didn’t gain any form of knowledge about the brand. I think brands should learn how to deliver their physical events in a way that gets their potential customers to get familiar with their brands and what it can do for them instead of showing us their pretty impressive connection with celebrities. And I rushed in from a trip to meet the class 🙁😒… 

I feel people need to consciously start planning events to make it worth people’s time… I am so concerned about the lessons people take away from these classes and will be utterly crushed if someone told me they spent 4 hours listening to me and the only thing they gained was the goody bag… No matter the cost of the products you’re giving out, life changing lessons should be your/my priority for organising events… If people are going to go home dumber than they came, it has defeated your purpose as a teacher or an expert in your field… Yes, I love awoof and love small chops and cocktails even more (which by the way was amazing. The cocktails were very interesting to look at and so delicious too) but when I go for events, I always look forward to learning something new; even if it is just one thing. 

This is no diss to the brand; I found that they even offered more than just hair products (like a lot of people think they do) and have such impressive range of beauty products for the skin and hair. Their products are equally not over the board expensive, so, I have no problem with Shea moisture as a brand (which a lot of people misinterpreted my rant as on IG). I am just so concerned about the way things are done in Nigeria. How people feel it is not important what people take away from their events as long as it looks on social media and loads of celebrities turned up for it. What defines the success?! The fan fair of celebrities, the dope pictures on IG, the goody bags or the great values/lessons gotten from the event?!

As an event organiser with over 8 events of my own done, I am beginning to question the need to throw physical events and if I am actually changing lives with them or if people just come for the goody bag… Sigh… I hope I do better with my events, I hope I give people something long lasting other than products that can finish any time or won’t be useful to the guests… I really hope I do better and inspire someone to put values in serious consideration while planning their events rather than “for the gram”.

From Whip Girl, with love… 

XOXO

I Have The Poverty Mentality Syndrome 

Breaking, shocking news: I have been diagnosed to have the poverty mentality syndrome by a friend, Ope, at the office some days back. If you don’t know what that is, it means the behaviour that influences consistent beliefs that money should not be spent, opportunities are limited, any risk is dangerous, any success is temporary and non-replicable and generally remaining in the back of the pack is the safest. In non-boring (not really less insulting) English terms, I think like a freaking loser or the tendency to think like one. You’re shocked?! I was stupefied. 

Before I get into the gist, I will like to tell you a bit about Ope. He is a smart guy (you can’t be dull and study Mathematics and something else I can’t remember in University, it takes a man with something in his head and tolerance for solving boring equations to want to go through that torture for 4-5 years), an accountant and very good at what he does. I know he is good because I have seen him work magic with finances and stuff. I swear, I stare at his laptop screen sometimes and feel like a complete dumbo; like I don’t understand anything, I can recognise numbers. Ope is pretty smart with money and can predict when you can make good profit, what to do with your liquid cash, what product goes and stuff. Coupled with the fact that he is into some side real estate business, I felt he was the best to ask for advice on renting a comfortable apartment in Lagos. Big, huge mistake! 

I can’t really remember how the conversation went but I remember clearly Ope advising me to rent a 15million naira apartment in Lekki (inserts crazy laughing sounds). I know he was obviously joking (cos if I had enough money stashed somewhere to rent 15milljon naira worth of apartment yearly, I obviously won’t be having that conversation with him) but I felt appalled that an accountant who is supposed to forecast financial risks and help prevent me going broke would advise me to rent an apartment for such ridiculous amount of money. So, I responded by saying “that’s not smart investment. I would rather build or buy an apartment that will serve as a safe net for me in case anything goes wrong than splurge on something that can’t protect me in the face of financial crunch”. That made Ope said I have poverty mentality. In my mind, I was like ahan (I think I said that aloud too).  

As a smart guy, he defended his case by saying if I had such vast amount of wealth with “nothing” to use it for, renting an apartment of that amount would be no issue and how renting that apartment is the same as splurging on expensive trips across the globe or buying a million naira worth of wristwatch or car or shoes or whatever and his points got me thinking really hard. Long after the argument, I kept thinking things in my head, like how does wanting to make a better decision that secures my future and serves as a legacy for my kids a poverty mentality?! 

A 15 million naira apartment will eventually cost you more. You would need professional services to clean the house from time to time, state of the art of furniture, signature home decor and stuff like that that will dig crazy holes in your pocket and it is certainly not the same as going on holidays or buying a watch (do you need to have monthly servicing to maintain a watch). The light bills, the crazy high maintenance service charge and those stuff you have to pay after paying house rent 🤦. Gosh, the heavy money you can use to do something better for yourself and your household, you’re using to fatten the coffers of a landlord every year! And Ope sees nothing wrong with this except for my own mentality to not think like a wealthy person. 

If me choosing to tie my money down in properties that I can sell of to help the flow of my liquid cash, save me from financial meltdowns is a poverty mentality, then I wear my badge with joy and pride. I will not in the bid to think like a rich woman think stupid. I bet if Dangote rents apartments upon apartments with his wealth, he would be bankrupt by now (or maybe not, I don’t know) but I know a wise man will not throw his money away anyhow. Can 15million naira buyyou a complete house?! Yes, it actually can; maybe not a mansion or in Lagos but you can buy a land in some areas in Lagos for less than one million and throw the remaining 14 million into completing the house. Heck, more assets never kill anybody. Even if it is a car you buy (which is a liability), you can still get some money off it if you get that broke and who has ever borrowed money from the bank with their Landlord’s house documents?!  

This post is already getting too long but I sha know that even with the “extra money” overflowing like a sea, I still would make a conscious decision into buying more properties rather than renting properties (I will rather be the one collecting 15million naira from tenants abeg).  If that means I think like a loser, oh well,  so be it. Maybe, being a loser is not so bad after all then. I better take a comfortable back seat on this one. 

What do you think?! Refusing to rent an apartment at that rate means you have the poverty mentality syndrome?! Share your thoughts with me, I will really love to hear from you… 

Poverty mentality XOXO, Whip Girl (that’s my new signature because I love it when a certain somebody calls me whip girl and lol, it is not what you’re thinking)


I Fancy A Fairy Tale 

It’s a pretty hot Sunday and I am stuck in my room with no cable subscription (I am too lazy to lift my behind from the bed to the ATM) and worse, my laptop is charging but refused to come on. I have looked through my library and can’t find a book that is actually appealing to me to read at the moment (it doesn’t even help that I have read all of them like twice at least). I am not a fan of reading on my phone as I get distracted by too many messages notifications and I am not in the mood to chat either. It is one of those days that nothing seems to be interesting to me except count the hours and daydream. 

I am a huge daydreamer. I am one of those people that like to close their eyes and picture what is, what can be, what should be, what will be and all that. Sometimes, I get so lost in my private thoughts that I start smiling, laughing or talking to myself. I can’t count how many times I have laughed out by myself and people ask me “what’s making me laugh”. My response, I just remembered something that happened one time. Only if they know I am actually picturing weird stuff in my head like falling in love with a thumb sized human with cute brown eyes that can make dark chocolate jealous or becoming invisible and stripping people of their clothes. I swear, it is fun. Just close your eyes and imagine people getting naked with no idea how it is happening, especially in the market. Imagine the chaos and people screaming. Crazy funny, I know. 

I don’t only think weird stuff like giants invading senator’s meeting and people lifting chairs in a failed attempt to protect themselves or men shooting babies from their dicks. I daydream about cool and cute stuff too. Like how my first kiss with my crush will be and how he will be so in love with the kiss that he won’t be able to stop himself. Cliche, I know but my favourite part is when we finally graduate from crush to lovers and then to husband and wife. How he will cry on our wedding day because he has snagged a jewel and then on the day our triplets will be born; three cute babies that will have my eyes (obviously, because I have such cute brown eyes that look like molten chocolate) and their father’s smile and hair (of course, he has to have such soft, naturally wavy hair). What’s not cliche is that my crush is faceless cos I don’t have one in real life. 

My favourite daydream is the one where I suddenly win a billion dollars *sigh*. Should I start the tale of the houses I have built in my head and the cars I have bought. Oh, my power bike!! My specially customised 2017 Yamaha R6 that I name Salvador cos he is hot and sexy and powerful like that!!! My state of the art toilet (you would think as a girl, my kitchen should be the state of the art room in my mansion but my toilet is my idea room and has to impeccable) furnished with shelves upon shelves of my specially curated books, magazines and newspapers, the largest plasma TV money can buy, the loudest stereo, gaming system. Don’t even get me started on the cooling system; nothing short of EXQUISITE and the floor is so squeaky clean, you can use it as a mirror. I have a butler; yes a well dressed English butler called Williams or Charles, the type that curtsy and announce my guests.. 

Oh, the sweet sweet life I live in my dreams. It’s a big, big dream but who says dreams don’t come true?! I know that’s why I work my butt off to bring my fairy tale to life. Yes, I am a dreamer and I fancy a real life fairy tale… 

To Die Is Gain 

​Maybe, just maybe, the brave ones are those who saw the need to end their lives and did it… Maybe, just maybe, the cowards are those of us who continue to live… For isn’t to die gain?! But let it not be heard that I gave up to fight too soon… 

                                              -INKHEART-

She groaned painfully as the cold hard end of the gun connected with one side of her soft, chubby cheeks. She could feel the pain travel from her cheeks to her head and spread round her body in a very slow agonising way but she did not flinch or wince,  neither did she drop the gun. Her breath was shallow and she felt a little woozy. Instinctively, she rubbed her cheek with her spare hand and it felt like it was double its size under her hot palm. 

Sighing painfully, she looked at the gun in her hand and wished she had the strength to do more than hit her cheek with its butt. Where was courage when you needed it the most?! She did not want to feel pain, she wanted to feel air quietly yet violently escaping her, she wanted to feel her chest crushed by the lack of breath and her body go limp with total surrender to death. Yes, she wanted to die so badly, too badly that she collapsed on the floor wailing for her lack of bravery.. 

How she had pictured so many times how it would end; painful and maybe not so swift. In her head, she had imagined the pain and anticipated it. She stared longingly at the gun and wished she could transfer the zeal to kill herself into reality action. “Fuck”, she swore as she hit the gun hard on her head, the pain temporarily blinding her.  If only she could really pull the trigger and end it all, for she knew that to die was way better than the miserable life she found herself living. She knew that to die was gain…. 

P.S: no matter what you’re going through, suicide is never an option… No matter how dark that tunnel may be, there is always light it and I would know because I have contemplated suicide too many times and have attempted it twice… Yeah, it may be tough or unbelievable to think you can actually be a better person or there will be sunnier days but trust me, there actually are so many sunny days. So, instead of killing yourself, take a deep breath, pray hard, talk to someone about how you’re feeling and pray some more… 

Once Upon A Dark Time 

If you’re a writer, you will probably understand how hard it is to think an article through in your head, have it shaped, edited and when you finally grab your phone or laptop to write it down, pooof, this well crafted article in your head decides to take a leave of absence. The most annoying thing ever.  And for someone like me who has to still go back to her head to dig the bits and pieces out, it is even more annoying. How I deal with it?! I just take a deep breath, probably a bottle of cold water and just write whatever comes to mind. My favourite part: when it comes out better than the initial intended post. I “hopefully hope” this is what happens to this article; that it comes out better than I intended. 

Before I start, I will like to warn you. This is a long post and  may be a tad difficult to read; it was difficult for me to write. I had struggled with making certain things public but well, nothing stays hidden forever and more, I have come to realize that there are so many young girls going through far crazier shit than I did. If my stories will help someone figure out a way to survive her demons, then well, I will take the high road of telling it.  If you’re uncomfortable, please feel free to skip this post but I sincerely hope you stay, read and maybe learn a thing or two. Or, this is not a pity party invite either; it’s been well over 3 years that I have sincerely moved on to better things without allowing my past to dictate my pace. So, nope, it is not a pity party invite. If anything, I am grateful for every single thing I went through, I would not have understood my life, what I wanted out of it or met God (oh, I have always been a Christian but it took me this painful journey to have a true relationship with God) and found true purpose and peace.  

My name is Alice and I currently run two brands; Colours And Grey, a Digital Marketing/PR/Branding agency and The Bloggers Advocate, a brand that is dedicated towards changing the culture of blogging and the blogosphere in Nigeria.  CAG is going to be 2 years in Nigeria and is currently affiliated with over 100 notable brands and media platforms in Nigeria while TBA is just some months old and currently has over 150 bloggers in its network as well as affiliated with over 50 brands. Both businesses give me joy and there’s this fullness in my heart knowing God is working mighty wonders and I get really excited for what to come. There are times I have been dumbfounded by the milestones I have reached and how easy it is to achieve certain feats that people find so difficult to do. I can go on and on about how amazing God has been to me and how my turnaround has shocked a lot of people, including my father and not stutter. 

You see, there was a time in my life I was so empty, so so empty that I filled myself with crazy stuff that could have killed me. My life was filled with so much darkness, it was difficult to see any form of light at the end of the tunnel. All I saw was long, deep and very dark tunnel that I kept getting sucked in deeper day after day.  People had totally written me off, my father disowned me and called me all class of names. There was a time he told me I was going to end up selling puff puff with my certificate. To be honest, a part of me believed him. At that point, I was so dead within that I had no will left in me to fight to do better or want to be better. I would fill the void in my soul with narcotics and alcohol then pass out and wish to never wake up. It was either die or be miserable and like a coward, I chose death. I contemplated suicide so many times, attempted it twice and almost succeeded. How I didn’t die, only God knows. 

Now, I can dream and aspire to do things, then I could not. It felt so wrong to even want to do better with myself like I was being punished for some sin I had committed when I was younger and deserved every bit of it. At some point, I believed so strongly that I will always be the butt of my family’s jokes; the black of the family everyone is donating money to so she can survive. I started living the things they said about me being useless and a “waste of time” without the need to fight. In my defense, there was no need to fight anymore when everyone thought I was irredeemable and well, if everyone was thinking it, maybe I was really irredeemable. 

It became so easy to rebel and become worse than I was than to fight. I became so defiant that I started running away from home with so little money in my account. I had stayed with nothing but pure water and one sachet of Kemp’s crackers for a week. I have gotten food poisoned from eating a very stale bread someone managed to dash me. I was the morden day prodigal child, digging and begging for food except I was lucky to have some expensive gadgets to sell to pay for the rundown guest house I was logded (it was way better than underneath the bridge and for that, I was grateful to even notice it was rundown and unkempt). 

I was so lost, finding me was not even an option and there’s nothing worse than someone who has lost her zeal to live, she was a walking bomb waiting to detonate and destroy so much more in her wake. I think that was the scary revelation that propelled me to want better. To be honest, I can’t really remember what caused a change in me but I know I was genuinely tired of all the mayhem and foolishness. I had gotten to the stage where I started questioning God why he created me or allowed me to still be alive. If I was going to cause so much havoc with myself, I would have just been miscarried or died at some point as a child. I would pray and “demand” God should take my life; nothing dramatic, just allow me sleep and not wake up, something to save hospital bills and stuff. I had zero will to live. 

How I changed?! Sincerely, I can’t really say. All I know was, one night I got so angry and tired and with a heart filled with so much pain, I cried out to God. If He wanted me alive, He better show me the reason why I need to stay alive. I was so depressed in my spirit that night that I wanted out of my life. That night, I felt a different kind of calm that I had not felt in years and for the first time, I felt and heard God. It was like I was being soothed in a strong and warm embrace; it was phenomenal, words can’t even express how I felt that night. From then, I made a conscious effort to try a different approach to my life, let God lead. I won’t worry about all the bad things my father had said or anyone had said about me, I would forgive myself and forgive everyone that has hurt me, I would surrender and lay it all at God’s feet. 

Was it easy?! Nope!! I was used to being so defiant and doing things my way that it was hard to let God lead. There were times I would take the easy, familiar road thinking God has to understand na, just one stick of cigarette, one wrap of weed, I need to clear my head. It was a constant battle with trying to do better and not wanting to give up my addictions. And you know how you suddenly have money and friends who would eagerly provide you with things you’re trying to do away with. Yeah, there was God ready to lead me out of my penury to a new life in peace but there was self that fought constantly with God’s will and instructions. 

Until I took a very hard decision to cut off ties with things and people that held me back from moving forward, I was still the old me. It was hard to not have friends to hang out with and even tougher to quit smoking (this one was crazy tough. I still go out, see people smoke and still get this urge to help myself to one stick). I avoided a lot of places like World War III was going on there and gradually, I started filling up the void with things that gave me a spirit lift like writing. You know, if I had never been through hell, I would never have had a career as a blogger/writer (before I started my business, I had worked in various online and offline media companies as a columnist/content developer). I would have been locked in one office compiling boring programming. I would have been another chubby cheeks in the crowd with no real value to give… So, you see why I am grateful for my tribulations, they gave me something so profound, it is a force to reckon with… 

Life is like a big bowl of hot chilli sauce; so hot you want to spit it out badly yet so delicious, you can’t wait to lick the bowl clean. That’s life, the crazy mix of so many ups and downs, sometimes so crazy, you want to give up yet the hope of something big keeps you going and I hope you find that big “hope” that pushes you to keep going despite the rough paths.. 

If you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask via the comment section and if you want to stay anonymous or have a private chat with me, you can send a mail to theardentinkheart14@gmail.com or chat with me via Whatsapp: +2348092904867; I always look forward to helping people… 

  

Sweet And Sour; Two Sides To The Coin Called Life

This life is just a huge pot of beans. The downside is, whether sweet or sour, you have to learn how to enjoy it or well, there is no other option I can think of right now. No matter what happens to you, you have no choice but to move on with your life. On the good days, you live and on the very horrible days, you still live.  Even on days where life is gently taunting you with the swiftest and easiest routes out of life, you still keep on living. Yeah, life is truly hard; filled with too many sweet and sour moments but still, a lot of us will take the ups and downs over being 6feet deep in the ground. That’s why hope and life go hand in hand.

If there’s still life, they say there’s still hope. Maybe that’s why I am still hanging on to the fact that I will start a blog and keep up with it forever; something so meaningful and resonates with what I believe in and love to do without giving up halfway for the lack of the inspiration (I am so bad at not giving up once I lose my mojo but I am keep my fingers crossed and so hopeful that I won’t have to kick this blog aside like I have done with the rest).  I am so hopeful this will be the beginning of something so beautiful, it will be too much of a force to reckon with to stop.

With all that plenty story, I welcome you to my blog; a mix of sweet and sour that shows the good and bad experiences I have passed through or currently passing through. This blog was borne out of my to just get certain things off my chest and equally motivate people through my articles, especially those struggling with issues that I may have lived through at one point or another… I promise not to bore or throw shitty stories your way but be warned, I am really blunt and I take “freedom of speech” to another level. I hate to sugarcoat things and so, certain thing I say may come too strong and may not sit well with you; I apologize ahead but hey, what’s the essence of sharing my life experiences, hoping to inspire and help someone live through theirs if I have to sugarcoat and lie?! I will equally be sharing some other things like my skin care regime (you know how they say plus sized girls have the tendency to stink, it scared and scarred me so much, it turned me to a skin care freak), my favourite hang out spots in Lagos especially those low budget ones, book reviews and so much more (I hope)

So, stock your fridge with bottles of zobo or healthy fruit juice (lol, let’s pretend I didn’t mean coke),  stock your pantry with chin chin, popcorn, healthy nuts (whatever rocks your taste buds) and hit the subscribe button. I am coming with a BANG 😂…

P.S: I don’t know if I should stick with real name or my old pen name: The Inkheart, please help me decide… 

P.PS: the blog is still a bit dry… Created this inside napep on my way back home. I didn’t want to lose steam by setting it up first before doing a new post.. So,  pardon me if some of the pages are “dry”. I plan to spruce it up soon…  I really hope you stick to see the magic I can create with you cheering me on (yeah, that’s me solo hoping you will subscribe, comment and share my post links  cos I can’t do this without your support..)